


Eros Enthralling

by Eirvyan



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Worship, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Opportunistic Rape, Oral Sex, Rope Bondage, Underage Rapist, rapist pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27899071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eirvyan/pseuds/Eirvyan
Summary: If the people of Ancient Greece aimed in part to capture the ideal figure in thekouros,Adrian found his not in cold sculpted marble but in Mason Wells, a being of flesh and his classmate.
Relationships: Classics-Obsessed Schoolboy/Classmate Who Looks Like a Greek Statue
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49
Collections: Consent Issues Exchange 2020





	Eros Enthralling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [exceptionallyunfortunate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exceptionallyunfortunate/gifts).



If the people of Ancient Greece aimed in part to capture the ideal figure in the _kouros_ _,_ Adrian found his not in cold sculpted marble but in Mason Wells, a being of flesh and his classmate.

Even in freshman year, Adrian had been captivated by his upperclassman in their fleeting interactions - as they passed in the hallways or during lunch, averting his gaze before he was discovered. He went to the track meets in the spring to watch him from the stands, whether it be hurdles or discus, infatuated with the thought of viewing him from closer up, to see the sinews of his muscles flex in harmony with each other. He relished those glimpses of a perfect form, bare arms and legs in the meets or during pleasant weather, and where the collar of his shirt met his neck. Admired, marveled, desired.

Yet he had never intended to bridge this one-way gap of ignorance. Art was meant to be marveled at from a distance, to remain an aesthetic in the environment. Adrian understood this, and he was satisfied, however reluctantly, with this arrangement.

It did remain as such for a time, until Adrian’s sophomore year, when they happened to not only take the same art class, but were assigned to work together for a group project. From that moment, forced to at least tolerate each other, maintain some contact and some amount of small talk, they were by definition no longer strangers.

Whatever reason Mason suspected Adrian had to keep in touch afterwards, Adrian had a pretty good idea regarding his counterpart’s. They had little in common - didn't share friend groups, interests, even a graduating year. They happened to share their language class, and that was all. But Adrian was _helpful_ _._ He was smart enough and happened to be available when Mason needed someone. It began as an offhand comment during their project, but at some point he had progressed through the stages of increasing responsibility over his schoolwork.

Now, they were by no means friends, and Adrian had no expectation of becoming so, but nevertheless, as they sat in his room the Saturday morning before midterms, so close in his cramped desk that Adrian could see the long eyelashes of his senior by one year, and he reasoned him through calculus problems, he felt some sense of familiarity between them.

And when Mason groaned and pulled off his sweatshirt to hang it over the chair, muttering some joke about him overheating from thinking too hard and flashing his midriff just for a second, and went back to work with a yawn and his t-shirt exposing his arms, it was but another flash of the untouchable.

“Did anything happen last night?” he asked when they took a break, and as Adrian reorganized his notes and textbooks. He already knew the answer, vaguely, though he never paid much attention to the school’s sports aside from track.

Mason was idling at his dresser, peering at the shrine atop it Adrian maintained and moved around as he was so inspired. Today, in addition to the incense sticks and divine miniatures he always kept there, a couple poppies rested on some nephthytis clippings from his younger sister’s potted plants - which he supposed she knew but didn't care about. 

He yawned yet again and turned away to face Adrian. “The football team won a game yesterday, remember? It’s a pretty special occasion, so we were up pretty late, maybe… 4 am? As far as I know.” Adrian raised an eyebrow at him, but he waved it off and walked back to the desk. “I had coffee earlier, I’ll be fine.” He paused and rubbed his nose. “Know what, I’m gonna go take a piss. You wanna look at my stuff?”

“…Yeah, sure,” Adrian replied to Mason’s back and the creak of the opened door.

Adrian stretched his neck and let out a sigh before he dragged the notebook over to himself. He began to scan through Mason’s work, marking all the mistakes. He continued to do so even as he heard the footsteps return down the hall and the door click back closed. Mason let out a loud groan as the bed creaked and exhaled under his sudden weight.

“Please don’t lie on my bed,” Adrian sighed half-heartedly, still reading. When he didn’t hear anything else, though, he finished the portion he was reading and stood to stretch his legs. He looked over at his classmate, ready to reprimand him, and found him still laying on his back.

Mason remained unmoving as he approached. “Don’t fall asleep in my bed, either,” he grumbled, seeing his eyes lightly closed.

He was about to…. he wasn’t sure, grab his shoulder, or poke him in the side, or whatever else to wake Mason up, when he froze. 

Here he was, asleep and all laid out for him, the form which had seemingly been plucked straight out of a dream. His arms, strewn loosely above his head, had pulled the hem of his shirt just high enough to expose a sliver of skin again, as if taunting him, just enough to encourage him to imagine, desire, pursue more.

Adrian’s eyes flickered to the bedroom door and back. He bit his lips. They _were_ alone in the house, after all - his mother at work and his father accompanying Cleo to swim practice.

“Mason?”

He tried one last time to rouse his classmate, his hopes shifted, and when he didn’t receive one, his throat swelled with elation.

Admittedly, Adrian did feel a little bit guilty. This was someone who, as far as he knew, would never willingly expose himself to Adrian, as he so desired. But the Fates were being generous this one time, and cared not for mortal reservations - he could not let the opportunity pass.

He hurried to grab rope from the garage.

* * *

By some miracle, Mason did not wake up no matter what Adrian did, so deep was his dip into unconsciousness, even as Adrian pulled him further up by the arms, as he tied one end of each rope around his bedposts and the others around his wrists.

Adrian’s original thought was limited to this alone, but then, he realized, there was also the matter of Mason’s legs. If he did nothing, he would be kicked, and furthermore they would prevent him from admiring the lower half of his body. He had to restrain them. Before he could even amuse reconsideration, he was already moving to the end of the bed, dragging down Mason’s ankles and encircling rope around them.

Still Mason did not wake. 

His work satisfied momentarily, Adrian dragged his eyes down his classmate’s body as he climbed next to his subject. Mason’s eyes were gently closed and his lips loosely parted to let his chest rise and fall ever so slightly. His light brown curls had disheveled, no longer falling across his face in any intentional order. He seemed almost tranquil, a stark reprieve from his emotives of the living. 

Like this, Mason was more beautiful than anything. Adrian’s fingers nearly strayed to his classmate’s lips before he pulled back.

Adrian drew his attention closer to the real object of his desire. Even obscured by fabric, or perhaps emphasized, there was a certain shape to Mason’s body that made his heart leap, and a certain solidness against his muscle he could already feel with a tenuous brush down his chest. At the hem, he couldn’t help but touch the bare skin just a single time before, in a surge of courage, he took the end of Mason’s shirt in his hands and tugged.

If only he could recreate that moment eternally, as navy blue gave way to sun-stained ivory, how his heart leaped in the exposure of the body so previously out of view, one that, had it been in a museum and of marble, would have been freely displayed. He bit his lips, ran one tenuous hand down Mason’s abdomen, soul fluttering at the heavenly warmth, its solidity, the contours, his gaze hopelessly trying to take everything in, as his other hand grabbed for his phone.

Adrian had snapped a number of photos of what he found exposed - wrist, forearm, collar, chest, abs - when he heard a grunt and turned his attention up. Grey eyes found the older boy's deep brown.

He twitched his thumb. The shutter clicked again.

“Uh. What are you doing?” Mason began, when he tried to move - perhaps tuck in his arms, or sit up - and found himself unable. He tugged again, then looked and saw the nylon. His eyes widened. “W-what the fuck- Why are you-”

“Mason.” He stared at him. “If there were ever proof that the gods could tamper in us mortals’ daily lives, that proof would be _you_. You’re so beautiful, I couldn’t help but notice. Everything I could have ever dreamed of, wrapped up in your body." Adrian traced his fingernails across Mason’s abdomen as he spoke, marveling at its gentle ridges and slopes. "I thought I could be satisfied adoring you as we were, but it was never really enough.”

Mason was left speechless, his brow slightly furrowed and mouth slightly ajar as he processed his classmate's words, but when Adrian leaned down and, discarding his phone, pressed his lips and hands against his toned stomach, he jerked and cursed loudly. 

“Jesus fuck, stop it. This isn’t funny,” he yelped. "What do you want from me, seriously?"

 _Why would this be a joke?_ Adrian thought as he kissed the warm skin, surprisingly devoid of hair and so unlike the harsh surface that he'd subconsciously come to expect. His hands roamed freely, trying to capture the landscape that retracted at his touch. "You, your body. Just that," he murmured. _I want your approval to be my muse._

Mason's voice shook a bit as he spoke. "You- you're serious? What the hell, man. I thought you weren't this much of a weirdo. Everything up to now, the tutoring and all, was just because you just wanted to feel me up?"

Adrian ignored Mason's words. Out of sight, he could disregard his continued physical objections, could almost make himself imagine that the crumpled fabric that prevented him from reaching beyond Mason’s chest was not fitted to his body in the contemporary way but loosely draped over his shoulders.

And truly, even now, after interacting with Mason's body, the fantasy he had constructed since first he saw him still persisted. With each kiss, each grope of his hands, he slowly shifted his way up and over the older boy and only found that, besides the warmth and give of his skin, the reality was nearly exactly what he had imagined - from the smoothness to the muscles that were so much more defined than mere sight revealed. His fingers, leading his way, found and brushed the rise of Mason’s nipples under his shirt, eliciting a shiver from both, then slipped out to caress the contours of Mason’s arms as well.

As Adrian worked over his classmate’s body, he became increasingly aware of his own response, the warmth that seemed to radiate directly from Mason's body into his gut, and the tightness that resulted from it. But when he had little option but to sweep a leg over his classmate, when it resulted in their hips colliding with one another, he was only reminded that there was more than the top half of his subject that he was obligated to appreciate. He rolled against the other boy’s crotch. 

Mason groan-cursed a particularly rough time as he jerked, attempting to buck his classmate off, and tugged hard at his restraints.

“You’ll cut off your circulation if you keep doing that,” Adrian muttered as he caught his balance with his arms on the bed and sat back up.

“Fuck off. Just get off me and untie me already.”

Adrian shook his head. However, as he was unable to really proceed in their current conditions, he shuffled off Mason, dodging the older boy’s failed attempt at a kick. He fumbled Mason's belt open, and with some more difficulty managed to grab his classmate's jeans and shove it down - though not to his ankles, as he had hoped. 

It was fine, this was enough, he reasoned with himself - even with only half his thigh exposed, already he could make out the muscles of his legs, how the sinews of his inner thighs strained as Mason revived his futile attempts to free himself. Above them, Adrian found his penis soft and not much larger than those carved in marble. A tang of disappointment hit his stomach, but not in discouragement. 

Adrian reclaimed his seat on Mason’s shins, and to an ineffectual buck of Mason’s legs leaned down to kiss what was exposed of his legs.

Slowly, gradually, he wandered across the tense muscles and took his classmate's dick in hand, caressing and stroking experimentally, watching it as, despite the writhing of the person it was connected to, it began to grow. 

"I never shared the Greeks' thoughts on phallic modesty,” Adrian murmured as he watched. “Everything else about a statue can be the work of a master's handicraft, but I always thought it was a shame that the masters backed away from this part." He leaned in and encircled the head with his tongue, eliciting a whine from Mason and encouraging it to harden further. Yes, this was so much better, so much more faithful to the male physique; Adrian felt his own body respond in kind.

Mason cursed yet again. "You're goddamn insane," he growled, his voice strained.

 _A divine insanity, perhaps._ Adrian looked up at Mason, who was staring down at him. There was a wild, fearful look across his eyes and in the upturned ridge of his eyebrows, alongside a captivating red flush across his cheeks. "I'm _appreciative_ _._ How many people do you think look like gods? Or, no, how many people do you think can represent gods? They got to be immortalized in marble, yet here you are, more beautiful than even them."

Mason's expression twitched. His eyes broke contact and one rope strained as he tried and was stopped from turning away. Adrian huffed in amusement and returned himself to the tip of Mason's head once more. He encircled its red heat within his lips, stroked the other boy’s cock again as he mustered up his courage, and slowly sank his mouth down the length. 

They moaned in disjointed union.

As Adrian bobbed his head up and down, some fragment of him mused it was not quite just the resemblance and artistic recreation that made Mason so alluring. Why else would that spark of excitement arise as Mason's dick grew within his mouth, as his voice cursing above him resonated in his ear? Why else was he so entranced by every slight shift in Mason's body, with one hand gripping the muscle of his thighs and the other splayed across his tight stomach? Really, proper adoration should have been suspended in time - a silent, unmoving and unchanging image.

And still this wasn't enough, still couldn't be enough. Adrian's gut wrenched. He was so close, yet there was a separation between them, a distance between where Mason ended and Adrian began. Who was he to be hesitant in this moment, suspended beyond expectation or imagining?

He pulled off Mason's dick and, propping himself up on the older boy’s hips, took in the shifts he had caused in his image. A peek of harsh red against tan ropes and skin, the strained muscles of his arms; flustered cheeks, gritted teeth, a chest rising and falling quickly, and, finally, his cock standing properly erect between his legs.

It was all so beautiful - and he was so insufficient in his appreciation of it.

A pained relief crossed Mason's face, just for a moment, as he opened his eyes. It was quickly replaced by renewed fear - he already saw the _need_ within his classmate's flushed face, even before he slid off Mason's semi-clothed half and pushed Mason as best he could onto his side. The warp of his torso created new strain on his muscles, revealed new patterns down his body, and Adrian was treated to just a brief flash of another figure's suspended poise before he pulled himself back into focus.

It took a bit of a struggle, as even with his limbs restrained, Mason continued to fight him off, but nevertheless Adrian managed to catch him enough to push a spit-lubed finger into his classmate's ass.

Perhaps he was a bit eager, and somewhat frustrated by his acquaintance's continuous struggling and the pain he was surely causing himself. Perhaps there was also concern in there, too - not only for his wrists but how little Mason reciprocated outside the physical realm. He moved as quickly as he reasonably could with what he could manage, pressing more fingers into Mason’s hole, before he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, one of his hands already having undone his pants in the meantime.

Whatever Mason’s level of protests before, his squirming took on a new intensity as Adrian gripped his hips from behind and, guiding himself with one hand, pressed against his entrance. Still, though, there was barely anywhere he could go to escape Adrian’s dick as it inevitably entered him. He shouted various expletives, but still the younger classmate persisted, had to follow what his heart told him, could barely think enough to pull out enough before he pushed back in.

Some notion of him became aware of the shifting in Mason's tone as he continued to fuck him. It seemed to lose its energy, the underlying spark of pain drowned out by a mix of more receptive groans. 

Mason’s body, too, which had initially attempted to pull away from Adrian's chasing hips where it could, eventually began to push back against him in increasing alignment. His hands at the end of his tangled arms gripped at whatever they could reach, the corner of a pillow or his bedsheets, clutching them as desperately as the ropes around his wrists.

With only the two of them in the house, Adrian had no need to hold his voice back, and with them so close, his head buried against the back of his classmate's head, he couldn't see much of anything, nor could he think much beyond the warm scent of Mason's hair and their contact through his hands and his dick. With what little ability he had, he wrapped his hand around his classmate's cock, hard and wet at its tip, and stroked. 

Mason broke into a series of moans and sobs, begging for something different Adrian could not quite discern. His body shuddered soon after, along a particularly curse-merged cry and which reduced to quiet, overstimulated whines as Adrian thrusted into him regardless, focused on his own arousal.

In a final burst of inspiration, Adrian trusted his instinct, not his primal but his _artistic_ _,_ and pulled his dick out from Mason, ignoring the hitched inhale that followed. It took only a few strokes after he wrapped a hand around his length before he groaned into Mason’s hair and jerked his hips against his classmate’s body, with only just enough self-control to blindly aim himself. 

He waited for his heart to stop pounding in his chest and for his breath to calm a bit before he reluctantly drew himself away.

A couple lines of white were streaked across the back of Mason's thighs, radiating out from where the cleft of his cheeks ended and his legs began. Adrian bit his lips, marveling at the not-quite-contrast against Mason's tanned skin, but not for long. His attention returned to the larger subject, whose breath slowly lost its heave and unevenness.

Mason's eyes, when they turned to watch Adrian untie the ropes around his wrists, did not quite have the same fire as earlier. Rather, filling them was a dark uncertainty and a fear that was only partially limited to the younger boy. Adrian barely noticed; he was more preoccupied by the knotted ropes, the sweat-plastered hair sticking to a forehead he resisted the desire to kiss, and a series of off-white streaks dotting the bed in front of Mason's cock.

Mason continued to stare until Adrian undid the restraints on his legs, at which point he abruptly turned away. He grimaced as he sat up, as he saw the proof of his body's reactions. “I’m… I’m not gay,” he mumbled, voice dropping off by the end. He furrowed his brow, desperately nursing the red afterimages across his wrists. “I’m not… What are they gonna say if- _fuck-"_

“I…” Adrian began, before he stopped himself. What _could_ he say? _I’m sorry, I could foot the pizza bill?_ The first part was false, and the second frivolous. 

He could only watch in silence as Mason stumbled off the bed, shoddily restored his clothing to a socially acceptable form, cobbled his belongings together, and half-hurried, half-scrambled out the door, clutching papers he hadn’t shoved into his bag, all the while avoiding the younger boy. The poppies swiveled out of place as he passed.

Part of him scorned his inaction. It shouted at him to chase after Mason, to pull him back into his bedroom, to keep him restrained beyond movement so that there was no threat of separation. Yet there was little he could do, for that blood and warmth which coursed through his veins and ascended him beyond any sculpture came with movement and thought, of self-sufficiency. He was... alive, Adrian reminded himself, not to mention certainly stronger than him, and it would be the greatest of all shames to stymie that aspect.

Instead, he stared at the droplets stained into his sheets, reconstructing his touch against Mason's skin, until, perhaps an eternity later, a car's engine started outside and faded into the distance. When he could no longer hear anything but his own breaths, slowly, he stood and fixed his shrine.

* * *

Adrian lay sprawled across the living room couch, some movie he'd randomly chosen from the suggestions list playing on his phone. He wasn't really focused on it, though. His thoughts, like always to some degree, were turned to topics he was more interested in - among them, Mason.

The two of them hadn't communicated at all since that Saturday morning. In person, this was to be expected, sharing only one class and taking midterms nonetheless, but their occasional texts had halted as well. Their last message had been from Mason, a hastily and slightly misspelled text reporting he was heading over. Not that there was a reason for them to talk, from one hardly-acquaintance to another.

So there they remained, silent over midterm week, then the holidays, and now into the new year, separated by time, daylight, and, with the snowstorm outside, even temperature. And perpetually hovering over all that was the question of whether their arrangements would remain once class resumed.

If their silence continued, if they mutually agreed to avoid each other in class and in the hallways, and especially if Mason didn't show up at his house again, it would be clear he no longer desired his assistance.

And that was _fine_ for Adrian. He didn't know how Mason and his academics would fare, or the athletics scholarship he was aiming to retain, but Adrian would get over it. After all, Mason's figure was kept secure and mere fingertaps away. It was only a single encounter, and quite a bit was not or could not be captured in photos, but then again, Adrian was used to improvising with what little he had. More importantly-

"-dri? Adrian, for-" 

A hand waved between his face and the screen, bringing him out of his thoughts. He blinked and looked up to find his sister above him, her short hair framing a frustrated frown. He pulled out his earbuds. "Are you even paying attention to whatever you're watching?"

"Not really."

"Good for you. Mom wants to know if you're gonna help cook dinner."

Adrian groaned as he sat up and stretched. "Yeah, sure. I'll be there in a minute." He closed the movie and put down his phone as Cleo bounded out of sight.

More importantly, he was intent on perfecting the mental image of Mason - not just what could be perceived in sight, but the touch of his skin and muscle, his voice in all its inflections, his shudder and warmth against Adrian's body. Something he could access so that, no matter their physical distance, he would always have access to his muse.

This was the appropriate arrangement - art was, after all, to be observed from a distance, closest in its interaction between the soul and the subject. Not to be touched.

His phone buzzed and lit up from the table. In three motions, two consecutive and the last after a pause, a series of texts scrolled onto the screen. He spotted the name and couldn't help but read the contents.

_happy new year_

_think i did ok on midterms_

_do we meet again next saturday? same time?_

But, well…

If he was being given the opportunity, Adrian wasn't one to miss out. He picked up his phone for a moment and typed in his own response before he replaced it, face down, and went to the kitchen.

_sure, sounds good._


End file.
